


sex guns ain't got nothing on me

by Yersina



Category: Mission to Zyxx (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Character, Coming Out, Gen, Sex Pollen, more accurately the sex guns, takes place season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27209695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yersina/pseuds/Yersina
Summary: Pleck lets out a nervous laugh reflexively as he scrambles to leap between two trees, stumbling slightly as he climbs over to the other side. “What are the chances, right?” he says desperately.“The likelihood that the Y’rragh’t would also own a collection of sex guns?” Pleck knows that C-53 doesn’t have lungs and thus wouldn’t be winded from all the running they’re doing, but he can’t help but feel that it’s unfair that the droid still sounds so nonchalant.He ducks a branch, wincing when a low-hanging twig scratches his arm as he passes by. “Yeah, I mean, since real guns will actually, y’know, harm you.”“Well, given that the Y’rragh’t are immediately incapacitated for a week when they experience sexual arousal, it actually seems like a fairly logical choice as a weapon,” C-53 points out reasonably.
Relationships: C-53 & Pleck Decksetter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	sex guns ain't got nothing on me

**Author's Note:**

> pleck is possibly one of the most unintentionally ace characters i've ever had the pleasure of encountering in all my years of fandom, and i couldn't possibly _not_ write this. also the fact that sex guns are canon is inherently ridiculous and i will absolutely take advantage of it. 
> 
> this takes place mid-late season 2 bc that's... where i am in the show rn lol. the y'rragh't are completely made up, but i imagine their planet to look something like nibiru from star trek into darkness. 
> 
> happy ace awareness week!! here's to our very pink emissary.

Pleck lets out a nervous laugh reflexively as he scrambles to leap between two trees, stumbling slightly as he climbs over to the other side. “What are the chances, right?” he says desperately, trying to keep his mind off the fact that he’s running for his life for the second time in as many weeks. Thirtieth—or is it thirty-third?—time in eight months, if he wants to be petty about it. Back when he’d enlisted in the Federated Alliance, he’d chosen the ambassador track specifically because he’d thought he’d have a _lower_ chance of getting shot at.

“The likelihood that the Y’rragh’t would also own a collection of sex guns?” Pleck knows that C-53 doesn’t have lungs and thus wouldn’t be winded from all the running they’re doing, but he can’t help but feel that it’s unfair that the droid still sounds so nonchalant.

He ducks a branch, wincing when a low-hanging twig scratches his arm as he passes by. “Yeah, I mean, since real guns will actually, y’know, harm you.”

“Well, given that the Y’rragh’t are immediately incapacitated for a week when they experience sexual arousal, it actually seems like a fairly logical choice as a weapon,” C-53 points out reasonably. 

Pleck pauses automatically for Dar’s contribution, expecting a jab at his non-existent sex life, but nothing comes. “Wait, where’s—”

“Halt, intruders!” The closest Y’rragh’t trills, the sound gratingly resonant on Pleck’s eardrums. The rest of the Y’rragh’t take up the call and soon Pleck is clamping his hands over his ears to keep away the horrible ringing cacophony echoing through the forest. 

“Ambassador, over here—” C-53’s hand clamps down on Pleck’s wrist and his protest at being manhandled is cut off as C-53 pushes him towards a conveniently well-hidden crack in the cliff face next to them that also conveniently opens up into a cave.

“Wow, I can’t believe this is here,” Pleck can’t help saying, but C-53 shushes him harshly as the Y’rragh’t go rushing past. “Also, I’m an emissary now,” he whispers. “Not an ambassador.”

The whir of C-53’s machinery is startlingly loud in the echoing cavern of the cave. “Is that _really_ what you want to be focusing on right now?”

Pleck starts twisting the edge of his uniform between his fingers. “Well, I mean, I _am_ an emissary now, that’s my official title, so you might as well—”

 _”Emissary Decksetter—”_ Pleck sits up straighter when C-53 cuts himself off. That can’t be good.

“C?”

“Emissary Decksetter, do you recall being hit by anything while you were running?”

That seems like a stupid question coming from C-53. “Well, yeah, I mean, there were trees, and branches, and _rocks,_ and—”

“No, I meant—” C-53 reaches over and grabs Pleck’s arm so he can twist it around and show Pleck the perfectly round bruise that’s starting to form on the back of his arm. 

“Oh, that doesn’t look good.” Pleck pokes tentatively at the mark and hisses when it twinges obligingly. “Who knew that sex guns could still pack a punch? I mean, those things are essentially just—I mean, do they even have any physical substance to them?”C-53 starts backing away, retreating further into the cave. “Wait, where’re you going?” Pleck calls, automatically going to follow.

“No, stay right there,” C-53 orders. Pleck stops in his tracks. “Emissary Decksetter, we have to separate ourselves before the energy from the sex guns starts to affect your hormones and causes you to... pursue me.”

Pleck automatically lets out a laugh because _how is this his life._ “What?”

C-53 lets out a rattling sigh, the kind that usually prefaces an explanation of something he thinks Pleck should already understand. “Emissary Decksetter, the _sex guns_ cause you to desire _sex._ I am currently the only available body. Therefore, there is an incredibly high likelihood that you will attempt to juck me.”

“Whoa!” Pleck thinks his laugh is more on the edge of incredulous this time. “Don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions?”

“This is a _sex gun.”_ C-53 pauses before adding, “I think this is a very likely conclusion, if not completely expected.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” 

They both stand in silence as Pleck tries to figure out how to deal with the situation. “Look, C-53—”

“Emissary Decksetter, I will attempt to find Dar so that they may restrain you while the sex gun is in effect,” C-53 says as he starts to inch towards the entrance of the cave while still keeping as much distance as possible between them.

“No, don’t do that, there are still people out there!” Pleck drags C-53 back into the safety of the cave. “We can just wait it out, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

He gets a sense of deja vu as C-53 turns to look at him slowly. C-53 has really honed that ‘you’re really not being as stupid as I think you’re being, right?’ stare into an art. “I’m telling you that it will _not_ be fine,” C-53 says patiently, though with the tone of voice that suggests he’d rather just knock Pleck out and be done with it. 

“And I’m telling you that it will,” Pleck says confidently. 

“Emissary Decksetter—”

“C-53—”

“—you really should understand the severity of the situation—”

“—and I’m telling you that I do—”

“—you clearly don’t—”

“I’m ace,” Pleck interrupts. There’s a curl of apprehension in his stomach because he hasn’t had to say those two words in a while, but he trusts C-53.

C-53 slaps a hand over his face, obscuring his cameras. “This isn’t the time to be making up nicknames, Emissary Decksetter.”

“No, I mean—I’m ace.” There’s a brief pause where Pleck has the abrupt realization that that doesn’t actually clear things up. “As in asexual.”

The sigh that C-53 lets out isn’t quite the reception that Pleck was envisioning. “Tellurians don’t reproduce asexually—I’m surprised I have to tell you this.”

The apprehension is starting to give way to a spark of irritation. Maybe even a bit of anger, if Pleck is being honest with himself. “No, I know that.”

“Then there’s no reason to claim that you’re asexual,” C-53 says in his ‘I’m being very reasonable and you’re just a particularly ignorant sentient being’ voice. Pleck spares a brief moment to wonder what it means that he can categorize the different levels of exasperation in his coworker’s voice, and what that says about his life. “Just because you have clones of yourself now doesn’t mean that _you_ are asexual.”

“C—” Now it’s Pleck’s turn to sigh. “I meant it as in sexua—”

“Emissary Decksetter, we don’t have time to be arguing about this, you are going to succumb to the effects of the sex gun _very_ soon. In fact, it should’ve happened already.” Yep, that’s definitely anger that he’s feeling.

“C-53, the sex gun won’t be a problem because I identify as asexual,” Pleck says as clearly as possible. He can’t believe that he has to do this with his infinitely knowledgeable protocol droid. “In fact, I feel fine.”

This is enough to give C-53 pause. “That _is_ rather unusual—you should be feeling the effects now.”

“And I’m telling you that I won’t.” Pleck sighs wearily. He thinks he feels a bit warm, but after Dar’s heat and having them drape themselves over him on Dependent’s Day, it’s really not a huge hardship. He does feel an urge to maybe pat C-53 on the head and curl up next to him on a couch for a while, but the urge feels so natural that he can’t tell if it’s intrusive or not. Maybe that’s the sex gun at work.

“This... actually explains a lot,” C-53 says after a moment of silence. “It puts a lot of our interactions into context.”

“Does it?” He’s not sure if he can separate his pure and blinding ignorance about space and aliens from his indifference towards having sex, but if it helps C-53, he’d glad they’re having this conversation.

C-53 nods stiffly. “I believe it does.” They both sit in silence for another few moments. Pleck resists the urge to itch under his eyepatch and wrings his hands together instead. God, he’s becoming like Nermut. He looks out the entrance of the cave to distract himself, but the hurried footsteps of the Y’rragh’t only rush back and forth outside of their cave entrance, seemingly oblivious to their little hideaway. “Emissary Decksetter, I believe I owe you an apology.”

Pleck blinks at C-53 before frowning. “What? Why?”

“Although our previous conversations had seemed more acceptable with the assumption that you identify as allosexual, this new information—”

“Whoa, lemme just cut you off right there, C,” Pleck interrupts with a laugh. It feels... nice, in a way? But also somehow a little bit _off._ He’s never gotten an apology for this before, and it feels especially weird coming from C-53 now. “No worries, okay? All is forgiven. You didn’t know.”

“Emissary Decksetter—”

“Drop it, okay?” There are only so many deep revelations and heart to hearts they can have in a day, and Pleck sure as hell isn’t going to have another one while they’re still in a cave in the middle of nowhere. “You didn’t know before, but now you do! A lesson for the future.”

“If you’re certain.”

“I am,” he says as firmly as possible. They fall silent again, the sound of crushing leaves and slightly echoing calls from the Y’rragh’t still going strong outside. Hopefully they’ll give up soon—he’s not looking forward to having to spend the entire day in this cave, stewing in awkward silence. 

He pulls at his collar absentmindedly, resisting the urge to fan his cheeks. “Hey, C-53?” The mechanical sound of C-53 turning his head sounds unnervingly loud. “Is it getting warmer in here, or is it just me?”

“The temperature of this cave has remained largely unchanged,” C-53 informs him. “Your body temperature, however, has risen quite significantly.” 

_“Great.”_ Stuck in a cave with a droid and a squadron of aliens outside looking for him—just another day as an emissary. Pleck drops his head into his hands with a heartfelt groan. He should’ve just become a farmer. 

“Are you… in distress?”

Pleck can’t help his snort. “It just feels kind of uncomfortable, C.” He’s actually pretty sure his body is well on its way to being aroused, but the cognitive dissonance is making the whole affair just _weird._

C-53 pauses briefly before delicately suggesting, “The C line of droids _were_ originally used as sex bots—”

 _“Oh Rodd no,”_ Pleck says emphatically before breaking down into hysterical giggles. _Why_ is this his life. “I’m fine, C, I promise, _and_ I still don’t want to juck you. My body just needs to get the memo and then we’ll be fine, okay?”

“Sure.” 

Pleck is desperately praying that this won’t take that much longer when the telltale sound of footsteps and squelching reaches his ears, and sure enough— “Hey there, losers, miss me?” 

“Dar!” Dar’s massive bulk blocks most of the cave entrance and Pleck’s pretty sure they can’t fit in through the entrance, but he’s never been more glad to see them. “You’re here! How did you find us?”

“I have my ways.” They duck down, squinting into the darkness of the cave. “C in here with you?”

“I’m here.” 

“Great! Bargie’s been yapping my ear off talking about how long we’re taking since she has an audition to get to in, like, three minutes, so _once again,_ Dar’s here to save the day after running back and forth across this forest looking for you two.” They still obligingly move out of the way when Pleck gently shoves them over so he and C-53 can emerge from the cave. 

“Thanks, Dar.” Pleck blinks rapidly as his eye adjusts to the bright afternoon light, trying not to stumble around or tip over while he’s nearly blinded. “We should head back to the ship then, right?”

“Uh-duh,” Dar says bitingly, rolling their eyes. “Come on.”

Pleck lets Dar charge on ahead and pulls C-53 behind with him, making a face when his fingers make contact with still-sticky synthetic skin. “Hey, C-53?”

“Yes, Emissary Decksetter?”

“Do you mind if you—” C-53 yanks him out of the way of a jutting rock in his path just before Pleck nearly steps on it. “Thanks. Do you mind if you keep the, uh, _cave thing_ between us for now?”

“Which ‘cave thing’?” That is a good question.

“Uh…” He scrambles to figure out a way to describe it in a way that wouldn’t reveal what it was to Dar just in case they’re listening in, but gives up after a few seconds. “Y’know what? Just—all of it.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

“Emissary Decksetter, I would like to point out that it’d be better for our teamwork if we all knew more about each other.” Pleck refrains from immediately saying that that statement is categorically and empirically untrue. 

“Sure,” he says instead. “But, uh, I think I want to talk about it on my own time, y’know? Plus it’s not like Dar or Nermut or Bargie _need_ to know. So we can just… leave it out.” He refuses to look at C-53’s cameras when he swivels his head in Pleck’s direction. 

“Okay.” 

Pleck would have come to a complete stop if C-53 didn’t tug him back into action again. “‘Okay’?”

“Emissary Decksetter, if you weren’t being genuine, then why would you ask—”

“No, no, I meant it,” Pleck corrects hurriedly. “I’m just surprised! That you gave in so easily.”

“I’m given to understand that privacy is valued among Tellurians when it comes to personal information.” C-53 says it so matter-of-factly that Pleck nearly forgets all of the times that the crew has just completely thrown boundaries out of the window.

“Er, yeah, that’s definitely true—”

“Hey, what are you guys talking about back here?” Dar falls back into step with them, immediately honing in on the hand that Pleck still has on C-53’s arm. “Ooh, did something happen in the cave?”

Pleck yanks his hand away like it’s been burned. “Um, nope, nothing at all.” He laughs nervously, shoving that hand in his shorts pocket. It makes running significantly more difficult, but that’s just his life at this point. It would probably be more suspicious if he tried to wipe off the lingering stickiness on his shirt. “We were just talking about, uh, um—”

“Dar, how long until we reach Bargie?” C-53 blessedly interrupts. It’s probably a terrible hindrance that their entire crew is so completely awful at lying. 

Dar narrows their eyes at the two of them. “I’m on to you,” they hiss menacingly before pushing them in the direction of another rock outcropping. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

Pleck nearly falls over three more times before they make it onboard the Bargarean Jade and they’ve probably (definitely) completely bungled the actual diplomatic part of the mission, but all in all, it’s not the _worst_ mission they’ve ever been on. Not even in the top three of that week. In fact, Nermut actually seems somewhat cheerful when they sign off from their mission debrief.

Pleck locks himself in his tiny closet of a room and plays Flappy Garfon until he stops feeling like his body isn’t listening to him. When he emerges, he makes himself a cup of hot chocolate and a bowl of zin corn and watches a holo-vid on the floor of the kitchen so he won’t have to cram himself back into his quarters. C-53 comes in halfway through to scramble an egg for Beano and gives him a perfunctory greeting before leaving. 

All in all, not a bad day. 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://littlenookofnonsense.tumblr.com/) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/yersin_a)


End file.
